Page 29 of Snowman

"She was assaulted," he told me, as though those words did not carry the whole world upon their backs.

The room tilted, my heart dropping to my stomach as rage and grief joined in a storm inside me. I bit hard into the inside of my cheek, the metallic salt of blood flooding my mouth as I forced back my reaction. I couldn't scream. I couldn't break. But God, I wanted to, to tear the walls down, to rip apart the whole damn town that had let this happen to her.

It's my fault,the thought repeated, sharp as a blade. If I hadn't left her that night. If I'd found her sooner, just an hour earlier. If I'd been stronger, smarter, more in control. She wouldn't be lying there in that sterile hospital room, alone, broken.

The guilt consumed me. For years, I had worn the mask of a killer who didn't feel, a monster who buried his heart deep enough to forget it was ever there. But standing here now, I was melting, breaking apart for a girl I had no right to care for.

She was just a stranger, a girl who shouldn't have mattered. And yet, in one touch, one look, she had awoken something inside me I didn't think I still had.

Love. Kindness. Warmth.

Things this town had buried long ago, things that were dead inside me, all being dug up anew.

I clenched my hands in my pockets and stared with a frown down at the hallway where they pulled her. Her face danced in my head, fresh bruises, pale lips, the way her body weight hadfelt so fragile in the circle of my arms when I'd lifted her: all these still alive now in my memory.

I had let her down, and it was something that I was never going to forgive myself for.

I finally faced the glass doors of the hospital and stepped towards it, and outside, through the window, snow fell in thick, heavy flakes. I stepped outside into the cold air which bit my skin, yet I did not feel it.

I will make it right,I whispered to myself, my breathing a cloud in the freezing air.

I will make them pay.

TEN

BREE

I woke up fiveminutes ago in a sterile white room. The walls were blank and expressed nothing. The steady beeps of the heart monitor rang in my ears like a cruel reminder that I was still alive. Every time I blinked, I was underwater again, drowning, gasping for air that would never come. My chest felt tight, as if a brick sat heavily against my ribs, pressing harder and harder until I thought my bones would shatter.

And just like that, tears slid down my cheeks without permission, when I had no control over my body. I could feel them yet—the hands, their weight—pressing down upon me. I heard laughter, their haunting laughter that echoed around in my ears. Their eyes, watching.Always watching.

I tugged the hard white blanket up to my chin, curling in on myself like I could disappear beneath it. Shame burned inside me, spreading through every limb. I wanted to tear away every piece of myself, to wash it all clean, but I couldn't even sit up. Iwas trapped, broken porcelain scattered into a thousand pieces no one would ever bother to pick up.

A soft knock broke the silence, but I didn't respond. Unwelcome guests came anyway. The door creaked open, and through the window reflection, I saw two men step into the room. My face was a mess: my cheeks were red and blotchy, and my lips cracked and dry. My hair hung greasy and tangled around my face, curled from the cold air outside. I was like a ghost, a shell of who I used to be.

"Bree," The voice was soft from behind; it came from Detective Thor Karlsson sinking into his chair beside me, but all he could offer now was, "The doctors have asked for us," as he added. He reached again toward my face, his brown eyes delving for my own that refused to meet his gaze.

"This is my new partner, Isak Storm," he continued. "Perhaps you can tell us what happened?"

I turned my head enough to be looking at Isak, and for one brief second, our eyes met.

Blue.His eyes were blue.

My breath caught, and I dropped my stare to the blanket I gripped like a lifeline.

No.

My mind whispered to itself, searching.

"Bree?" Thor said again, his tone soft. "If you need time, we can come later."

I swallowed hard against the lump in my throat, forcing myself to tilt my head slightly. My eyes lingered on Isak now—long enough to study him. Brown hair, tied back neatly into a bun. Strong shoulders. A beard that framed a sharp jaw. He was tall, solid—like all the men in this town.

But his eyes… his voice…

Something about him made me search. I had only seen his eyes—the Snowman's eyes—in flashes, but I carried them withme. Dark. Cold. And yet, I had imagined warmth hidden just beneath.

"No," I finally managed to whisper. My voice was small but the word decisive. "It was Josh and Vic."

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